A Hard Pill To Swallow
by WickedLittleLies
Summary: Dean gets turned into a child and they can't figure out how it happened. He's still himself but he has the body and emotional capacity of a small child and Sam's the one who has to deal with it all. Rated for language. More to come...Please review...
1. I Just Want A Beer

Dean stood on tippy toes, craning his neck up in an attempt to see himself in the bathroom mirror. "This shit sucks!" he squeaked, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

"We'll figure this out Dean," Sam said, looking down at him.

"Easy for you to say jackass, you're not 'fun size'," Dean frowned, gesturing at himself.

"Quit spazzing! We'll fix this…as soon as we figure out what 'this' is," Sam sputtered, trying to sound reassuring and failing miserably. "Just calm down."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much fucking better!" Dean scowled, looking more adorable than angry. "I need a freaking beer," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, you can't…" Sam said quickly. Dean crossed his arms and fought off the urge to stomp his foot. Great, now he was starting to act exactly the way he looked.

"Why can't I have a beer?" he whined without an ounce of shame.

"Because kids don't drink beer," Sam said frankly. "You're only pushing about 40 pounds now…one beer will do you in."

"I'm not a damn kid!" Dean protested, his tiny, bare foot stomping the floor in frustration. He was losing his grip. "I'm a grown-ass man and I want a damn beer!" Tears welled up in his sparkling green eyes, spilling over too-long lashes.

"Dude, I think you're having a temper tantrum," Sam smirked, trying to hold back his laughter. Dean wiped his tears on his oversized sleeve and breathed deeply, trying to collect himself. He looked up at Sam with big round eyes and flushed cheeks, his lips still puffed out in a little pink pout. He looked so sad and cute that it damn near broke Sam's heart.

"Shut up!" Dean spit. "I can't help it you know. You try being this way for a while and see how you feel." His head dropped, tiny hands hiding his face. All Sam could see now was brown, fluffy hair and ears that stuck out a little too far. A pang of guilt ripped through him and he squatted, putting a hand under Dean's chin to lift his head.

"It'll be alright…I promise," Sam said softly, arms reaching to snatch him up in a hug. Dean smacked his giant hands away, brows furrowing, lips still pushed out.

"Don't do that, I'm not a child," he huffed. Then, with as much manliness as a little boy could muster, he straightened up, drawing back little shoulders and puffing out his chest.

"_Control yourself Dean. Get a freaking grip. You're not a kid, you're still you. Don't let it get to you_…" Dean tried to convince himself. At least the voice in his head still sounded normal. He strutted over to the mini-fridge and grabbed himself a cold bottle of beer. Before Sam could open his mouth in protest he was twisting at the lid. Sam watched as he struggled. About a minute passed and he was still fighting with it. Dean felt the onset of more tears and he gritted his teeth, willing them back. He couldn't let his emotions get the best of him again.

"Why can't this be a can?" Dean shrieked, attacking the bottle with ferocity…still no luck. He wrapped the cap in his oversized shirt and twisted with all his might. "_This has to work._" he thought. "Come on!" he squealed. Nope, it still wouldn't budge. Frustration and disappointment wavered on his face. It was very difficult to mask his feelings in this new body. His emotions were raw, overpowering and he struggled with self-control. No more hiding behind his rough exterior…he was now an open book.

Sam stayed silent, watching his brother. Those sad green eyes weighed on him, squeezing at his chest, making it hard to breathe. He gave in, walking over and snatching the bottle from Dean with little to no effort. Dean gritted his teeth and grabbed for it but Sam held it just out of reach. He twisted the cap off with ease and Dean's face crumpled in defeat. He was about to lose it again, tears pricking at his eyes, body tensing…so close to falling over the edge.

"Just one," Sam said authoritatively, holding the beer out in front of him. Dean's eyes brightened immediately, bringing out the freckles that scattered across his nose. His lips turned up in a toothy grin, as he grabbed the bottle that looked overly large in his hands. He brought it up to his lips, shutting his eyes and taking a long, satisfying swig.

"Thanks," he said with a nod. Sam smiled warmly.

"You drink up, I gotta call Bobby…" 


	2. Batman?

"Balls!" shouted Bobby into the phone. "So you aren't even on a witch hunt?"

"No, we finished up a salt and burn last night and we were supposed to head your way this morning," Sam said running fingers through his floppy hair as he paced nervously between the two beds. Dean was sitting on the edge of one, beer in hand, feet dangling. The black t-shirt he wore hung past his knees and the sleeves fluttered at his wrists. The large bed just exaggerated his small frame as he sat there quietly, legs kicking, gulping down his drink.

"Alright…okay….sure thing," Sam replied nodding his head. "Thanks Bobby." He put the phone down on the nightstand and turned to face his brother. Dean threw his head back to look up at Sam, doe eyes full of question.

"Can you sit down? I'm about to break my neck here Sasquatch," Dean complained. Sam took a seat on the opposite bed, hands resting on his thighs.

"Bobby wants us to look for hex bags or anything else out of the ordinary in our room and the Impala. He's on his way here now," Sam said, rubbing his hands over his thighs. "You start tearing the room apart…I'm running out to get you something to wear…I'll search the car." Dean chugged the last of his beer and gave Sam a nod. He hopped to his feet as Sam walked out, keys in hand.

About an hour had passed when Sam returned to the room. Drawers were pulled out, clothes had been skewed across beds, books and papers littered the floor.

"I need you to help me move the furniture," Dean said, crawling out from under a bed. "Did you find anything in the Impala?" he asked while brushing himself off.

"Nothing," sighed Sam. "I looked everywhere…even checked underneath." He tossed a shopping bag to Dean. "Get dressed. I'll finish up in here and we'll go get some food." Dean made his way to the bathroom, struggling to step over the piles of clutter blocking his path. "_I fucking hate this,_" he thought after tripping over one of Sam's giant shoes.

Dean returned from the bathroom fully dressed. His sneakers looked a little too big and fastened with velcro instead of laces, his jeans had elastic in the waist and the t-shirt he sported had a picture of Batman across the front.

"Batman?" Dean questioned, eyebrow cocked and freckled nose scrunched up. Sam couldn't help but laugh at the sight before him, between the clothes and that expression.

"You know," Sam chuckled, "…if I didn't know you were you then that might just be the cutest thing I've ever seen." Dean pouted again.

"Let's just go eat," he sighed. "I'm starving."

They walked to a diner just up the street, Dean taking three steps for every one of Sam's. He climbed up in a booth, sitting on his knees for added height. While they both scanned the menu a waitress came for their order. She was a leggy young thing with long auburn curls that bounced when she walked. Dean's eyes lit up when he saw her and he threw her what he thought to be his cocky smile, having forgotten his predicament completely.

"Hey there sweetheart," he said with a wink.

"Aw…that's too cute," she cried, turning to Sam. "Did he learn that from his Dad?" Sam tensed and his brows furrowed as he searched for the right response. He relaxed and forced a smile.

"Guilty," he grinned. "That's my boy," he said, ruffling Dean's hair. Dean smacked his hand away, glaring at him from across the table.

"So, what can I get you boys today?" she asked, still amused.

"Black coffee and your breakfast sampler with a side of sausage," chimed Dean.

"My, doesn't he think he's big-stuff?" she giggled. "And for you?"

"Coffee and a short stack, thanks." She scribbled the order and trotted off returning moments later with their coffee. Dean took one sip and about spit it out, his mouth twisting up in disgust. The waitress bent down to face him, her shirt opening slightly and exposing her breasts.

"Would you like some cream and sugar cutie-pie?" she questioned, pinching his chubby cheek. He gave her a nod, eyes fixated on her chest. Maybe being a kid for a while wouldn't be completely horrible. He still seemed to have quite an effect on women. Sam kicked him from under the table when she walked off.

"Stop it!" he whispered harshly. "That's about ten kinds of wrong." Dean winced and rubbed at the sore spot.

"That hurts a lot more now you know," he sulked. "I'm less than half your size bitch."

"Jerk," Sam sputtered.

After Dean finished mixing about ten packets of sugar into his coffee the waitress was back. She handed them their food and ruffled Dean's hair.

"When you're done I'll bring you a slice of pie, on the house," she said sweetly, "if it's alright with your Daddy." Sam gave her a nod and thanked her. Dean just smiled up at her, his eyes like shimmering emeralds. When she left, he turned his gaze to Sam.

"What?" Sam mumbled, mouth full of food.

"I'm what…four maybe?" Dean questioned. "And I can still get more women than you," he giggled.


	3. CoffeeCrack

Dean was running circles around Sam when they got back to their room. They cleaned up in record time but when they were through Dean just couldn't will himself to keep still. He was bouncing as he sat on his knees in the middle of the bed trying with every fiber of his being to focus on the TV. Sam was sitting in a chair, mouth hanging open as he stared at his brother in disbelief.

"Dude, you haven't stopped moving in an hour," he snapped in annoyance.

"I can't help it," Dean whipped. "I feel like my skin's crawling. My hands are even shaking," he said a little too quickly, voice jumping with each bounce.

"No more coffee," Sam stated flatly. Dean nodded sporadically in agreement, eyes wide and nearly black from caffeine blown pupils. He looked like a hyper-active puppy trying to catch its tail.

A few hours later Bobby arrived. He stopped in his tracks after catching sight of the small boy curled up in a knot, asleep on one of the beds. Dean's hair was sticking up every which way and his thumb was in his mouth. Bobby was speechless as he approached the bed, unable to take his eyes off the boy.

"He passed out about thirty minutes ago," Sam sighed. "He drank some coffee and it may as well have been crack with the way he was acting. I guess he finally crashed."

"Y-you idjits have done it now," Bobby stuttered, trying to find his voice. "I don't know who or what you boys pissed off this time but it can't be good," he barked, shaking his head. Dean began to stir, eyes fluttering open. Shining jade peeked out from beneath dark lashes and his jaw hinged in a yawn.

"Bobby?" Dean mumbled around his thumb. He quickly realized what he had been doing and dropped his hand with a jerk, wiping his thumb on his clothes. "Did you find out anything?" he groaned, back arching into a stretch.

"Not yet," Bobby frowned. "Nothing turned up in the room or your car?" Both boys shook their heads in response. "Damn!" he huffed.

"There's no sign of anything unusual going on within fifty miles of here," Sam cut in. "What the hell's going on Bobby?"

"Well, I have some ideas but I can't say for sure…" Bobby grabbed an old leather book from his bag and started flipping through the yellowed pages. "This could be the work of a witch, a curse…" he started as he scanned the text, "…maybe a trickster…" he trailed off.

"I guess all we can do now is look for any kind of evidence," Sam sighed. "Try to figure out what this is and if we can fix it." He ran a hand through his hair.

"So I'm freaking stuck this way?" Dean shrieked.

"For now anyway," said Bobby.

"Look at me! What the hell am I supposed to do?" he spazzed.

"Calm down Dean. We'll figure this out," Sam replied softly.

"We'll figure this out? I can't even open a fucking beer! How the hell can I even help you guys with anything?" he whined. His foot was stomping again and his bottom lip quivered, hot tears spilling down chubby freckled cheeks. "Damn it! What the hell is wrong with me?" screamed Dean as he rubbed the tears from his face. He took a few deep breaths to collect himself.

"Well, that was different," said Bobby after a few seconds, eyebrows raised.

"Bite me!" chirped Dean. "Let's just get to work. The faster I'm me again the better."


	4. The Tantrum

**A/N: Okay, I really tried to stay true to the actual storyline and when I started this I had pictured it happening during the first few seasons when it was just monster hunts and reconnecting. Some ideas crept up on me and before I knew it I had thrown out my original plot completely. This is just to let my readers know that I'm twisting things a little to include more awesome characters =) **

A few days had passed and they weren't any closer to fixing things. There wasn't one damn lead and no one even knew where to start. They had checked into any and all crime committed in the last few months, looked in the obituaries for any strange deaths, looked into any missing persons and checked out anyone new to the area in the last year. Nothing seemed out of place.

"Dean, I think you should call Cas. We haven't gotten anywhere and I really don't know what else to do," said Bobby. He was sitting back in the desk chair, eyes red and overworked with black circles beneath adding ten more years to his face. "Besides, you're really starting to wear on my nerves," he huffed.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean said sarcastically. "But I guess you're right," he sighed. He paced the floor for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he collected his thoughts. "Why don't you head home and see what else you can come up with and we'll stay here and call Cas," Dean instructed.

Sam helped Bobby to gather his things. When they had finished he stood by the door to say his goodbyes, looking down at Dean, those bright innocent eyes burning right through him. A few days earlier, when he'd first laid eyes on the boy, it felt like he'd been punched in the gut…like the wind had been knocked right out of him. Dean was a mirror image of his former child-self, aside from his haircut, and the sight of him that way caused Bobby's thoughts to flood with distant memories. He had tucked that boy into bed at night, fed him supper too many times to count and he'd even taught him the proper way to clean a gun…it felt like just yesterday.

Bobby gave Sam a firm pat on the shoulder, "You take care of him now and call me as soon as you know anything." Sam nodded and Bobby turned his attention to Dean, patting him as well and knocking him off balance. "We'll fix this," he told Dean, looking him straight in the eyes before turning to leave.

* * *

><p>"Cas…uh...we have a bit of a situation here," said Dean into his cell phone.<p>

...'Click'...Silence...Cas had hung up on him.

Dean called back, "What the fuck man? I need your help."

"Who is this?" questioned Cas, voice gravely and low.

"It's the freaking Keebler elf, who the hell else do you think would call you from Dean's phone?"

...Silence...

"It's Dean!" he shrieked into the mouthpiece, his patience wearing thin.

"Dean? You don't sound like yourself," growled Cas.

"Yeah…well, that's kinda what we need your help with. We're still at…" he was cut off.

"Dean?" questioned Cas from across the room, eyes big with shock.

"Afraid so," sighed Sam. Castiel just stood there staring, phone still to his ear and lips pursed tight. Both brothers watched as the angel's head slowly cocked to the side and his brows wrinkled in that all too familiar expression of confusion.

"So, can you fix me or not Tinkerbelle?" quipped Dean. Cas didn't respond. Dean walked up to the angel, grabbing his trench coat in both tiny fists. "Sprinkle some fairy dust on me…hit me with some angel mojo! Please tell me you can," he begged, face scrunching up with emotion.

"I-I'm sorry," Cas said as he met Dean's eyes, cold blue waters dancing over a deep forest green. Dean lost it. He kicked the angel in the shin and started throwing little rabbit punches, making contact with any body part in reach. Cas remained stoic, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and holding him back as he fought furiously with the air. Sam ran over and grabbed his brother by the waist, lifting him off the ground, but Dean wriggled free, dropping himself to the floor, legs and arms flailing wildly, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"I hate this! I hate you all…fuck…damn it…Christ!" he shrieked, followed by several other inaudible exclamations and profanities of what one can only assume was hate. Cas and Sam just stood over him, mouths gaped open in shock.

After a few minutes Dean had gone hoarse and tired himself out. He curled into a ball and the screams turned to long, heart-breaking sobs. He whimpered and gasped for air, hot tears pouring freely from bloodshot eyes. Sam kneeled down beside his brother, scooping him up into his arms and carrying him over to the bed. He held him close to his chest, warm and nurturing as he rubbed a hand through Dean's sweat-soaked hair.

"Shhhhh…" Sam soothed into his ear, rocking back and forth as though he were an infant. Dean buried his face into Sam's chest and wrapped little arms snugly around his waist, his shoulders shaking with each gasped breath. Castiel watched from across the room, head tilting again, crystal blue eyes brimming with curiosity and intrigue. Dean fell asleep in his brother's arms.

"So…any idea what we should do?" Sam asked Cas while carefully shifting the boy onto the bed. He covered him with the scratchy motel comforter and gently tucked the blanket in around him.

"Well," Cas began, "this seems to be a curse. I might not be able to cure Dean myself but I think we could figure something out."

"A curse? Are you sure?" asked Sam, sticking his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders as he walked towards the angel.

"I wasn't sure at first," he explained, "but when I saw that your brother not only looked like a child but was harboring the emotional capacity of one as well then I knew it had to be."


	5. Window To The Soul

Sam and Castiel sat in silence, the angel perched at the foot of Dean's bed, cerulean eyes fixated on the fragile boy. He watched his chest rise and fall with the steady, uniformed breaths of sleep. Dean's lips suckled, his thumb nestled between them for comfort, much like that of an infant latched on to its mother's breast. Thick, dark lashes brushed his freckled cheeks and his face was serene…almost angelic in his unconscious state.

"It's weird isn't it?" Sam asked while peeking over the screen of his laptop. "Seeing him like this," he finished, nodding towards Dean.

"I am a bit…perplexed by all the changes," Cas admitted. "The anger I'm familiar with but the rest is…complex."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled.

"How can one go through so many different emotions in such a short frame of time?" the angel questioned as he turned to face Sam, brows furrowing in thought.

"I don't know…we just…do," replied Sam, unable to elaborate any further. "When you're grown it's just easier to hide it." He reached to the right and grabbed two bottles of beer from the mini-fridge, holding one out to the angel.

"It must be exhausting," Castiel sighed, shaking his head. He accepted the drink and twisted off the lid.

"Can I get one of those?" grumbled Dean as he slid out of bed; sleep still heavy in his voice. Sam popped the top on his bottle, passing it to his brother and he reached over to grab another for himself. Dean lazily rubbed the crust from his eyes and arched his back in a stretch before taking a long sip of his beer, the cold liquid soothing his sore throat as it went down.

"So…Cas…about what happened," he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes fixed to the floor. "I shouldn't have…I didn't mea-…I'm sorry," he finally blurted out, warm emeralds darting up to meet cold azures in a lingering gaze. Castiel had always thought that he could see straight into Dean's soul through those eyes…that it was the only part of him to emote anything outwardly besides anger…but now he knew that he'd been completely wrong. His view had always been through a fog, clouded by the man's façade; he had only been half-seeing and only now was he able to finally take in all the truth behind those paralyzing eyes.

"All is forgiven…no worries," the angel declared with a stiff smile. Dean's face lit up when he heard he had been forgiven and he brought his arms out, coming damn close to hugging Cas before he came back to reality and stopped himself.

"_What the fuck are you doing?_" he thought to himself, dropping his arms quickly. "_You need to get a damn grip Dean."_

"It's getting harder for you to control your impulses," Sam said to his brother, hazel eyes brimming with concern.

"No…no, I'm fine. I'll be alright," he contrived, voice rising in pitch and cracking with each word sputtered. He plastered a fake smile between those chubby cheeks of his hoping to at least look alright but Sam saw right through it. Dean's poker face had disappeared right along with his adulthood.

"So, you weren't just about to hug Cas?"

"No! Of course not…" he giggled awkwardly. After hearing the foreign sound escape his lips, he chugged down the last of his beer, hoping to dull things a little.

"And, I didn't rock you to sleep because you had a shit fit an hour ago and lost yourself completely?" Sam's question was laced with sarcasm.

"Shut your cake hole Sam!" Dean screamed, a ball of fire welling up in his gut, dragging him close to the edge again.

"It will only get worse as time passes," Castiel retorted before the impending argument could unfold further.

"How do you know?" asked Dean.

"Because it's a curse," Sam cut in, his hands slipping into his pockets out of habit as he stood. "So this is gonna get worse?" he questioned the angel.

"I'm afraid so. He's not gonna be able to reason with himself soon."

"Damn it!" shrieked Dean and Sam in unison.

"So what the hell can we do about it? How do we fix it…lift the curse?" Dean asked, trying with every ounce of self-control he had not to lose his temper or get upset. His jaw clenched tight as he willed himself to stay calm.

"Well, we have to find the source of the curse first…who or what did this to you. Then we can figure it out from there." Castiel explained. "You've already exhausted all leads here so I'll take over."

"What are we supposed to do?" Sam's brow wrinkled with the question.

"You are to take care of your brother," replied the angel, his voice the usual monotone. And with that, he was gone.


	6. Lucky Charms

**A/N: I feel the need to explain this chapter. In episode 1.18 "Something Wicked" when they are hunting a Shtriga, Dean has a flashback to his childhood. In his flashback he remembers giving Sam the last bowl of Lucky Charms even though he hadn't had any yet. The flashback always upsets me every time I see it so I felt the need to make it up to Dean in this chapter. Sam owes Dean all the damn Lucky Charms he can eat...**

"Are you excited to be on a case again?" asked Sam, eyes fixated on the road ahead.

"And how the fuck am I supposed to actually help with the case Sam?" pouted Dean from the passenger seat.

"I'm sure we'll find something you can do," reassured Sam, trying to avoid a meltdown of epic proportions. He always knew that Dean was touchy but over the last few days he learned just how touchy he really is and now Sam was avoiding confrontation at all costs. After a temper-tantrum in a gas station, at a truck stop and several more in the Impala…and that was just today…he didn't know how much more he could take. One foul mouthed little boy kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs certainly did draw a crowd fast. Castiel was right when he said it was definitely going to get worse.

"I won't be able to interview people," Dean scoffed. "It's not like the FBI is hiring kids now." His arms were crossed, brows furrowed, freckled nose scrunched up with irritation.

"You know, you're gonna step on that lip one day," Sam teased, a sideways grin on his face, unable to hold back any longer. Dean stuck his tongue out at his brother, cursing himself in his head for letting his impulses take over again. He hated acting like a child.

"So, what did Bobby say we're dealing with?" Dean perked up…like someone had flipped a switch, the sparkle returning to his bright green eyes.

"Um…four suicides in the same apartment over the last four months…three women and one man…"

"Did they off themselves the same way?"

"No, that's the strange part. One woman slit her wrists, the man shot himself, woman number two overdosed and the other woman hung herself…there's no pattern," sighed Sam. "We'll be there in thirty…are you hungry?"

"Yeah, but I don't want crappy diner food," Dean squeaked.

"Well, what do you want then?" Sam asked with raised brows.

"Lucky Charms!" Dean squealed excitedly. "I haven't had them in years and I want them so bad right now I can taste 'em." He was wiggling around in his seat, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.

"Lucky Charms it is," laughed Sam. "They always were your favorite when we were kids." He reached over and ruffled Dean's hair, earning a punch in the ribs by a child-sized fist.

* * *

><p>"You're gonna make yourself sick Dean," warned Sam, half chuckling. "You've eaten half the box already."<p>

"Whatever man," Dean mumbled, cheeks puffed out with half-chewed cereal. "They're fucking magically delicious!" Dean shut his eyes and moaned as he shoveled another spoonful into his mouth. Sam cracked up, dimples popping out, lips turned up ear to ear. Dean really was quite adorable…potty mouth and all and Sam found it refreshing to see his brother so happy for once. With him like this, little things like Lucky Charms made his whole day. He was living in the now…not in the past, not worrying about what was to come. Seeing Dean happy was such a rarity and Sam made sure to take the time to revel in it.

"Well…I figured things out so you can be on the case too," smiled Sam, eyes beaming.

"Yeah…and how's that Gigantor?" Dean smirked. He looked up at his brother, milk dripping from the corner of his mouth, streaking down his chin as he muttered.

"Well, since the place is up for rent again I figured we would go check it out, rent it…" Sam explained. "That way it's not suspicious having you around and we'll also keep anyone else from getting hurt while we try to figure all this shit out." Dean nodded in agreement, wiping his chin on his sleeve.

There was silence for a while, Sam tapping away at his laptop, biting his bottom lip in concentration and Dean groaning in misery on the bed, his full stomach near ready to pop.

"Do you think I'll be stuck like this forever?" sulked Dean, finally breaking the silence. His deep, mossy orbs cut through Sam, his words just as sharp, emanating worry and fear…two words practically nonexistent in Dean Winchester's vocabulary. Sam felt a crushing weight in his chest but he pushed it aside, plastering a fake smile on his face. He had to stay strong for Dean…he owed him that.

"Of course not! It's just taking Cas a while because there were no leads. I'm sure he's checking into every possibility and we'll have you back to normal in no time," he assured, hazel eyes soft, comforting.

"I hope so," Dean whispered, his cheeks flushing, streaked with warm tears. Sam was next to his brother in a matter of seconds, bringing him in and holding him close, long arms wrapped around Dean's tiny frame. He could remember Dean doing the same for him as a kid, whenever he had nightmares or fell and hurt himself. Whenever the tears would come he had always been there to hold him, running a hand through his hair, whispering soothing words into his ear even though Dean was just a child himself. It was one of the only constant things Sam ever had in his lifetime and he knew all of it had taken a toll on his brother…caused him to grow up too quickly, to put everyone else ahead of himself, caused him to lose his self-worth. Sam was thankful for all of it and he knew that this would probably be the only chance he would ever get to repay him…the only time Dean would be forced to let him make up for it all.

Dean leaned into his brother, allowing himself to be comforted as Sam rubbed circles on his back, soothing him with soft touches, hoping to stop his tears. It had been two weeks now and Dean was tired of fighting for his manhood. The urges and emotions were so strong now, so overwhelming that there wasn't much he could do to hold them back, just hate himself afterwards for giving in.

"So, when are we going to look at the apartment?" Dean asked after he had collected himself. He slid off the bed, scrambling to get away from Sam, face red from both embarrassment and his sobs.

"Tomorrow morning…nine o'clock. I made the appointment earlier."


	7. Who's Your Daddy?

**A/N: This chapter is mainly bratty Dean and Sam being bitchy because he's getting tired of dealing with him, mostly humor with some emotional stuff towards the end. The actual plot will thicken next chapter and lots of revelations will be made...I promise. I'm in no rush to end this fic so soon so stick around please =)**

"Do I have to call you Daddy?" asked Dean as he hurried down the brightly lit hallway, trying his best to keep up with his brother.

"Well, that's kinda the plan," replied Sam simply as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Sounds kinky," Dean giggled as he looked up and waggled his eyebrows. Dean or not, the expression was something Sam had never seen a child make and it came off as creepy. He shuddered, still unable to get used to the perverse ramblings that spouted out of his child-brother's mouth at random. One thing was for sure, he was still one hundred percent Dean, curse be damned.

"Stop it! You're supposed to be four…remember?" Sam scolded, shaking his head as he cut his eyes down at him.

"Well, excuse me Samantha…oops, I mean _Daddy_…" he scoffed. "I didn't know you had a stick that far up your ass. It's not like anyone's around to hear me. Learn to take a joke." He was pouting again, nose scrunched up and brows furrowed.

"Can you just try to chill out? I just want to get all this shit sorted out so we can get to work," preached Sam, irritation evident in his voice. "Try to be normal for five minutes…no cursing, no sarcasm…act like you're my kid. Please." His voice was calm now, having come to the realization that he could catch more flies with honey than he could with vinegar.

"Fine!"

* * *

><p>"Yes Ma'am, we'd love to see the place," Sam said as he smiled politely. "Wouldn't we, sport?" he added, ruffling Dean's hair just for spite.<p>

"Yeah!" Dean squeaked with almost too much excitement. He made a mental note to get Sam back for this later.

"Well, isn't he just adorable," cried the woman. She was an older woman with gray hair and kind eyes, her voice warm and soft. "You know sweetheart," she leaned down to meet Dean's gaze, "my grandson's about your age. I'll have to bring him over to play if you boys end up staying here."

"Wow, really?" questioned Dean with more fake enthusiasm. "That'd be awesome!" At that moment he wanted nothing more than to shoot himself. It was like a damn Leave It to Beaver flashback without the 'golly' or 'gee whiz' but regardless, he was sure to keep that toothy grin plastered on his adorable face to please Sam.

"First things first…here." She handed Sam a key. "You boys go have a look, I'll be right here with the paperwork when you're all done. Sixteen D, fourth floor…ya'll take your time."

* * *

><p>"Having you like this really sucks sometimes," Sam sulked as he tossed both duffels on the couch.<p>

"Ow, that hurts Sammy," Dean taunted sarcastically while shutting the door. He was sure to clutch his chest for emphasis, earning himself a full blown shot of bitch-face from his brother. "Are you mad because you had to tote both bags up here or because everyone loves me more than you?" he smirked, pleased with himself for being so irritating.

"Neither. It's just difficult to get information from someone when they refuse to talk about anything in front of my 'darling child'," he scoffed, taking a seat in the large reclining chair to unpack his laptop. "Now I have to go back up there and sit through another hour of conversation with that woman while you're supposedly napping."

"Hey, she wasn't so bad," Dean argued. "She made me cookies."

"Yeah, but now I have to call Cas to come sit with you while I'm gone." Sam was typing away, eyes fixed to the glowing screen.

"What do you mean you have to call Cas? I'm not actually four years old you know. I can watch myself," he pouted, arms crossing.

"I know that, but we don't know what's been killing people here and I can't just leave you alone in here while you're like this," Sam informed without looking up from his work.

"I can handle myself!" screamed Dean. He'd lost his cool already, fists knotting up and face turning red. Sam peeked at him over the screen. He cringed, knowing by the way the vein bulged out of Dean's neck that the meltdown coming was going to be catastrophic.

"Dean," Sam said soothingly, "I wasn't saying that you can't handle yourself. I…I just meant…damn it!" It was too late. Tears streaked down the boy's cheeks and he stomped his feet. In a matter of seconds he was belly-down on the floor flailing, cursing and screaming.

"I'm a…grown-ass man…let me…take care of…myself!" he shrieked between sobs. A slew of profanities followed, mainly highlighting his hatred of Sam. Sam knew the routine by now and he sat his computer down to go comfort his overly-emotional brother. He scooped him up into his arms and tried to soothe him like usual but it didn't work this time. Dean fought him tooth and nail, sounding more petulant and hateful than upset. He kicked and hit at Sam, calling him names he'd never even heard before. His forest green eyes looked feral, almost inhuman when Sam finally caught a glimpse of them. Dean had really lost it this time…he was having a full-blown temper tantrum and Sam had no idea what to do.

"Dean…Dean!" He shouted, gripping the boy's shoulders and shaking him lightly. "I'm getting really tired of this shit! You're being a brat!" With that, Dean just screamed louder and fought harder, spewing more of his hate with each breath. "That's it! You want to act like a snot-nosed little brat then I'll treat you like one!" And in one swift motion Sam had his brother face-down across his lap.

"What the fuck are you doing?" screamed Dean, the realization of what was about to happen sinking in.

"Giving you what you need," Sam replied as he let his large hand come down with a firm smack across his brother's jean-clad bottom.

"I swear to God Sam…when you go to sleep I'll stab you in the face!" he ranted, legs kicking wildly. Sam held him in place and let his hand come down with another smack. "You just wait till I'm normal again…you'll be freakin' sorry then." Smack. "I'm gonna kick your ass!" Smack. "Damn it…stop!" Another smack…and another…and another until Dean shut up and the only thing out of his mouth were sobs.

He laid there for a moment completely limp, legs dangling and arms covering his face as Sam drew him up in an attempt at comfort. Dean immediately pushed away, hating that his brother had so much control over him now. He may have deserved what he got...hell, his Dad would have done worse to him as a kid for pulling something like that...but it pissed him off to no end that it was Sam doing it to him. The thing that got to him the most is the fact that he truly needed his ass beat to get him to stop. It's a scary thing to lose yourself completely, to have no self-control and Dean realized now that he was learning everything all over again...starting from scratch. He really did have the emotional capacity of a four year old. "_Fuck me!_" he thought to himself, rubbing his hands over his face.

"We never speak of this again," Dean warned, pointing a finger in Sam's direction and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"Are you done now?" asked Sam, kind of hurt that Dean had pushed away from him. He was feeling guilty for what he had to do to him but he didn't really have much of a choice. It wasn't the physicality of it that Sam regretted...he knew how his brother was going to feel having been forcibly put into his place. "No more freak outs? Can we call Cas and get this over with?" Dean cut his eyes at him, freckled nose scrunching up as he searched his pockets for his phone. "He may even have news for us," Sam chimed in hopefully.

"Bitch," Dean mumbled under his breath.

"Jerk."


	8. Boys Will Be Boys

**A/N: This is just a quick thank you to all those readers that are still with me. To those who are reviewing, I can't thank you enough! It's because of ya'll that I'm keeping with this and trying to update regularly. You guys are awesome! **

Dean hung up his phone, staring daggers through Sam from across the room.

"I have news of great import," a gravelly voice broke the momentary silence, followed by the faint sound of furrowing wings. "But you won't like it." Dean scowled and Sam donned his most pitiful puppy eyes, both turning to Castiel, waiting for elaboration.

"Just spit it out Cas! I'm not getting any younger over here!" squealed Dean. "Well… hopefully anyway."

"I've traced the curse back to its source…Gabriel," Cas stated in his usual monotone. "I was…surprised."

"Are you sure?" questioned Sam.

"I'm afraid so," replied the angel, cerulean gaze directed at the young hunter, piercing and bold.

"But if it is Gabriel, then why a curse? I mean, he can just snap his fingers and pretty much do whatever whenever. Why go to the trouble?" Sam argued, hazel eyes busy with thought as he worked through the scenario in his head.

"Yes, he could have done this all with ease," agreed Cas. "But the sole purpose of using a curse on Dean was to make us think that it was something else entirely, to keep us off his trail for a while," he reasoned, the certainty in his voice undeniable.

"So he's just fucking with us again? That's just freakin' peachy!" Dean lamented, the vein in his neck bulging prominently as a tiny fist slammed down on the coffee table.

"Dean…" Sam warned with a cutting gaze, "your temper…" He sounded just a little too fatherly for his brother's liking, but Dean obeyed, taking deep, slow breaths to calm himself down. After all, he didn't want to lose it again, especially in front of the angel.

"I'm fine Sam," Dean growled, hands shaking from repressed rage. "Please, just go get the goods…I'll hang out with Cas, discuss our options." Sam nodded and stood to leave, stopping beside Castiel on the way out.

"Don't let him do anything stupid…and if he gives you too much trouble just zap him and put him in bed till I get back," he half-whispered, throwing Dean a warning look. He patted Cas on the back before making his way out the door.

* * *

><p>"Where's Dean?" questioned Sam as he rushed in the apartment, clicking the front door closed behind him. "I've got some info for him about the case."<p>

"He's…unconscious," Castiel replied, his voice hesitant. Sam's eyes narrowed and his head tilted in muted question. "Just after you left he offered me a drink. Then he was explaining some type of drinking game to me…"

"Cas!" Sam groaned as he slapped a palm against his forehead.

* * *

><p>"Sammy…I think I'm dying," groaned Dean from the bathroom floor. "It's like my very first hangover ever multiplied by a thousand."<p>

"Serves you right," chuckled Sam. "Now get your shit in gear so we can go to the library…and try not to act hung-over. You're four, be adorable."

"Why can't Cas just stay with me again while you go? I feel like shit," whined Dean, his groans and grumbles echoing throughout the porcelain bowl. He lifted his head to look over at Sam, receiving a full-blown shot of bitch-face. "Sonofabitch!"

* * *

><p>Sam was looking through some newspaper articles he'd come across, slowly putting two and two together. His concentration gave him tunnel vision, his mind on one track…so close to the answer he could taste it. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even think to keep an eye on Dean.<p>

The second that Dean realized Sam was enthralled in his research he made a break for it, crawling quietly under tables and stealthily rounding a bookshelf before disappearing out of sight. "_Kid or not, I still got skills,_" he thought to himself, chubby cheeks drawn up in a devilish grin. "_That bastard…making me come here with a hangover. Who the hell does he think he is? My head is killing me…_" He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

After a few long seconds he dropped his hand and opened his eyes, spotting a knockout who was shuffling through books in the Love/Romance section. Thick blonde curls wafted down her back, stopping just at her waistline. The curve of her backside and hips caused her knee-length skirt to flare out, fluttering with each move she made. She rocked from one foot to the other, scanning through a book, her legs going on forever in an erotic illusion created by her too-high-heels.

Under normal circumstances Dean could get practically any woman he wanted in just two winks and a heartbeat, this one included. A few cheesy lines paired with a patented Dean Winchester smile and she'd be practically throwing her panties at him. But since this whole mess happened, the only things he seemed to get from women were pinched cheeks and food…and, if he was real lucky, a hug with an accompanying face full of boobies.

Before Dean knew what was happening, he found himself crawling under tables and weaving between chair legs as he bee-lined towards her. In no time he was lying on his back under a table, giggling shamelessly as he looked up her skirt…impulses and urges kicking his ass once again. He got an eye-full of white, lacy, see-through panties before she quickly took a step back, tucking her skirt between her knees in an attempt at modesty. She looked down at the small, wide-eyed boy, hands clasped over his mouth as he rolled with laughter, his vibrant green eyes sparkling with life. The site melted away her initial anger and she smiled down at him warmly.

"You're just getting into all kinds of trouble this morning, aren't you sweetheart?" she giggled, kneeling down so she could speak softly. "Where's your mommy?" She held out a delicate hand to Dean, her voice as sweet as pie.

"I'm with my…ah…Daddy," he answered, putting his hand in hers and allowing himself to be lifted to his feet. The entire situation was awkward and a little creepy…calling Sam his daddy, being jerked up like a ragdoll, how large her hand felt around his…not to mention the whole looking up her skirt because he couldn't control himself thing.

Dean led her to Sam.

"Can I help you miss?" Sam asked as she approached. "I'm so sorry. He isn't causing any trouble is he?" He glared at Dean.

"Well, only a little…but don't be too hard on him. I caught the little guy looking up my skirt..."

"Dean!"


	9. Dean Will Be Dean

**A/N: I'm sorry the update took a little longer than usual. *hangs head in shame* I have two little boys and they aren't always cooperative. Plus, I've been pretty busy with other things lately. My apologies. Hope ya'll enjoy!**

"I can't believe you made me stand in the fucking corner," whined Dean, lips turned up in his new signature pout.

"You're damn lucky that's all I decided to do," barked Sam as he slammed the door shut to the impala.

"I don't know what you're bitching about…that girl was all over you because of what I did," Dean grinned. "You should be kissing my ass!" Sam rolled his eyes, slipping the car into drive.

"Well, with zero help from you…as usual…I think I got a lead on our case," Sam chimed in, voice perking up from excitement. Dean raised his eyebrows in question as he waited for his brother to explain. "Some woman lived in that apartment for years…her name's Anne Moyer. She moved out a month before the first suicide."

"And?" asked Dean. "What does she have to do with anything? Is she dead?"

"She's on life-support…has been for over a year now. She was in a car accident a little over a year ago and went into a coma. I found out about her from our landlord but I came to the library to look through articles and find out exactly what happened." Sam explained.

"I'm still not quite following," chirped Dean, looking rather confused.

"Do you remember fairy-tale girl?" asked Sam sharply, baffled by his brother's cluelessness. Dean's eyes lit up when it finally donned on him…

"_The woman's spirit is probably top-side and either angry or trying to send a message…maybe both._" He mentally pieced it together.

"Where's the woman at now and why'd they move her to begin with?" Dean asked, eyes busy with thought.

"Well, the landlord said that her husband couldn't afford the in-home care on top of rent so he moved her to a hospice and downsized." Sam kept his eyes fixed on the road. "I've just gotta go change and then we can go pay her husband a visit."

* * *

><p>Sam walked down the steps of the old brick building, looking rather out of place in his suit. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the humidity from the day making his button-up shirt stick uncomfortably to the small of his back as he walked leisurely back to the impala. He quickened his pace when an older woman caught his attention. She was standing next to the car, cell phone in hand, peeking in the passenger side window and tapping the glass, concern wavering on her face.<p>

"Ma'am, can I help you?" Sam attempted to sound as nice as possible, already knowing why she was there.

"Is this your child?" she asked irately, gesturing to the small boy sitting in the passenger seat.

"I already told you to mind your own business lady! You shoulda just kept on walkin'," squeaked Dean through the barely cracked window, sticking his tongue out when he was through.

"Yes, he's mine," Sam finally added.

"I have your license plate number and I'm going to call the police. You can't just leave your child by himself in the car on a hot day like today. What if someone tried to take him or he got heat-stroke and died?" preached the woman, the hatred in her eyes burning a hole right through poor Sam.

"I had the damn windows down till you decided to come and bother me!" Dean barked. The woman should have looked shocked at the child's outburst but evidently he had said much worse to her while Sam was inside. "I had to lock the doors because her crazy ass was trying to get me out of the car," he added, looking at Sam.

"I assure you he would have been fine Ma'am. Thank you for your concern," Sam added as he hurried into the driver's seat, revving the engine. "I'm an FBI agent," he said, holding up his badge, as much authority in his tone as he could muster. "This boy is in my custody and there's no need to involve the police. You need to be careful, had you removed the child from the car then I'd have had no choice but to arrest you." The woman was speechless as Sam slipped the car into gear and sped off.

"Crazy bitch," mumbled Dean, watching the woman as she disappeared in the side mirror.

"I can't do anything with you like this…I swear," sighed Sam. "We'd be fucked if she had called the cops." Sam ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I can't trust you enough to leave you alone or with Cas and I can't even leave you in the damn car while I get the information we need."

"That wasn't my fault," Dean whined, a feeble attempt to defend himself.

"I know…I'm just frustrated. Sorry," Sam apologized with a half-hearted grin.

"You didn't stay in there too long…what'd you find out?" He quickly changed the subject.

"Squat…he wasn't home," Sam scowled again. "We'll figure everything out tomorrow. My nerves have been plucked enough for one day and I'm sweating my ass off in this freakin' suit." He looked more than irritated, his knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel just a little too hard.

* * *

><p>Dean was bored out of his mind. Sam had been in the shower for what felt like forever. He'd already finished eating and there was absolutely nothing for him to do. He had started to get cabin fever a few weeks back, having been stuck in the car and random motel rooms with no means of escape. He couldn't drive, couldn't go anywhere alone, couldn't go to a bar and drink away his stress…couldn't do anything. It sucked being four years old. He was on the verge of screaming when he spotted his brother's laptop on the coffee table.<p>

"_As long as I don't break it then I don't think he'll care_," thought Dean as he opened it. "_Hmmmm…what should I do? Play a game? No, if it pisses me off then I might throw Sam's computer across the room._" He paused to think again. "_I could look at stupid videos on Youtube. Nah, I'm bored just thinking out doing that._" He thought harder. "_I know…porn! Can't go wrong with porn._" A smile stretched across his lips as he eagerly typed away. _"BustyAsianBeauties…perfect._" He giggled out loud when the website loaded, freckles standing out on his rosy cheeks as he blushed at the sound despite being alone. His sparkling eyes scanned the page in search of the perfect beauty to make his evening and he was just about to click on her link…

"Dean!" Sam screamed from the bathroom. Dean sprung into action, instincts taking over as he grabbed the sawed-off loaded with salt rounds that was perched on the edge of the coffee table. There was no time to think, adrenaline kicking in as he sprinted to the bathroom, hand on the doorknob, ready to take down whatever sorry son-of-a-bitch was after Sammy.


	10. I Want Pie!

**A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this chapter...it gave me a lot of trouble. My laptop spazzed and I ended up losing half of it after I had already wrote it but it's finally up and edited. Woo hoo! Enjoy my lovelies =)**

Dean took a deep breath, holding in the air in anticipation as he twisted the knob and kicked the door open in one swift motion. Without an ounce of hesitation he fired a round of rock salt at the spirit stalking by the sink with a hairdryer in her hand. Dean was knocked backwards, the butt of the gun knocking all the wind out of him as he fell flat on his ass. The dryer hit the tiled floor with a loud thud, pulling the cord out of the electrical socket and skidding to a halt at Dean's feet. The emerald of his eyes had turned to thin rings, barely visible when he peered at Sam from beneath thick lashes, pupils blown from the adrenaline. Silence blanketed the room and all was still for a moment.

"Are you taking a bubble bath?" Dean finally asked, breaking the silence, every ounce of seriousness washing off of his expression. His face lit up in a teasing grin when he stood. Pink tinted Sam's cheeks from his embarrassment and he quickly pulled the plug as he got up to wrap a towel around his waist.

"So…this place is actually clean. I'm not worried about catching a venereal disease in here," Sam barked defensively, knocking his brother off balance when he traipsed past him.

"Was she seriously trying to fry you in the tub?" asked Dean, sitting the gun back on the edge of the coffee table.

"That's where it was headed I think," sighed Sam while he rummaged through in search of some boxers. "We need to solve this shit…fast."

"No shit! The kickback on that gun friggin' hurts," whined Dean, rubbing at the sore spot. Sam stopped what he was doing for a second, his hazel eyes busy with thought before they locked onto his brother's green gaze.

"Thanks man. Even at your size you're still looking out for me," he said quietly, lips hinting at a smile. "You always have." Dean held his child-sized hand up in a hushing gesture.

"No chick-flick moments…remember?" he giggled before walking by and jabbing Sam in the ribs playfully.

* * *

><p>"But I want pie!" screamed Dean, his face turning a deep scarlet as he clenched his fists.<p>

"No, we don't have time to stop…we've gotta wrap up this case," explained Sam as calmly as he could, niceties sounding forced due to his rapidly decreasing patience. "He believed us when we told him…now we just have to meet him at the apartment so he can see for himself. Once he sees her, figures out what she wants and then agrees to let her go then I promise I'll get you all the pie you want on our way to Bobby's." Dean's face went from scarlet to purple as the rage boiled up inside of him.

"I want pie now!" he shrieked, the tears flowing freely.

"I said no. Now get that through your thick skull Dean," Sam barked. Dean freaked. He was kicking the dashboard, throwing whatever he could get his hands on, screaming and thrashing. "Don't make me pull this car over!" shouted Sam, nostrils flaring.

"Shut the fuck up! You're not Dad and I'm tired of you telling me what I can and can't do all the time!" he screamed. "I'm not a child!" Sam reached over and cuffed him in the back of the head with an audible slap.

"Just stop already! You don't think straight anymore, that's why I tell you what to do. Just freakin' get used to it already…I'm sick of this!" he growled. Dean saw red and lunged, getting caught by the seatbelt before his fist could make contact with his brother's face. Sam grabbed him by the wrist, "This is bullshit Dean! If you're still grown in that grapefruit of yours then start acting like it or I won't bring you on any hunts until you're fixed."

"But…" Dean began to argue. Sam put a hand up and cut him off.

"That's final," he said sternly, no room for argument. Dean knew that Sam meant what he'd said but he just couldn't fight the urge to flip him the bird and stick his tongue out.

"I just wanted pie," he sulked to himself, little pink lips turned up in a pout and his arms crossing. "I never get pie." Sam just shook his head and sighed. He was trying his damndest to be patient with Dean but sometimes his brother was just impossible. He was genuinely sorry for every fit he ever threw as a child while in Dean's care and he wished he could take them all back. This was definitely some form of payback, ten-fold for being a bratty little brother both as a kid and even now sometimes.

* * *

><p>"It's gonna be fine, I promise," Sam reassured Mr. Moyer, puppy eyes in full force for reassurance. "It was definitely her that we saw. We think that maybe she's just trying to tell someone that she's ready to move on…that she doesn't want to live like this anymore. Moving out must have triggered the attacks…maybe because she was no longer with you. That's my best guess." He quickly patted the man on the shoulder. "You ready?"<p>

"Ready as I'll ever be…I guess," he sighed. "I just don't understand… she's such a sweet, loving woman and always has been. It's why I fell in love with her. Why would her spirit hurt those people?" He was pale, his eyes dull and he looked utterly broken.

"Sometimes when a person's spirit is stuck here for a while it drives them crazy and they'll do whatever it takes to get their message across," answered Dean, bright emerald eyes sparkling up at the man…empathetic. Sam opened the door and they all filed in, walking around the apartment slowly, cautiously. They were all a bit on edge, not knowing what to expect from the spirit and Dean had his sawed-off in hand.

"You could try talking to her," suggested Sam. "Maybe say your goodbyes." The man nodded.

"Anne…it's me, Frank," he began, unsure of himself. "Honey?" his voice was barely a whisper.

"Dean, put the gun down," ordered Sam, still looking around carefully. He did as he was told, propping the gun up against a wall in the hallway hesitantly.

"Anne?" asked the man in disbelief. The brother's both turned towards him sharply, almost gasping when they spotted the spirit about a foot in front of him. She didn't move or make a sound, just stood in front of her husband and smiled, tears streaking her face. He reached a hand out for comfort, forgetting his fear completely when he caught sight of her and she laced her fingers between his delicately. Sam and Dean just watched as the man's eyes welled up with tears. He brought her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. "Are they right? Do you want me to let you go?" he finally asked between choked breaths. She ran cool fingers along his face, wiping at his tears, the smile never leaving her lips. "I love you," he whispered, shutting his eyes and leaning into her touch. When he opened them she was gone.

* * *

><p>"Well, that went pretty well," smiled Sam as he threw their duffels in the back. "He got to see his wife one last time and say goodbye…plus we wrapped up the murders."<p>

"I guess," sighed Dean, climbing into the passenger seat. Sam's smile fell when he heard the tone of his brother's voice.

"We'll stop and get you some pie when we fill up," chimed Sam, attempting to sound as upbeat as possible. "That way you have some for the road."

"Okay," Dean stated flatly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Sam was climbing in, about to start the car when his brother's cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Where are you? We need to talk," a gravelly voice buzzed from the other line.


	11. Respect Your Elders

**A/N: I apologize for the wait. The holidays are taking over my life! It's been rush, rush, rush since the week before Thanksgiving and I haven't slowed down yet. Two little boys certainly wear you out when you've got a million and one things to do. To top it all off, we just found out a few weeks ago that I'm expecting again. ****Yay! I hope ya'll enjoy. The end draws near. I wonder who'll figure out where this fic is headed...**

"Gabriel is staying under the radar," Castiel growled from the back seat, earning a startled jump from both boys.

"What have I said about that shit Cas?" Dean whined, shooting the angel a death glare. "Give a guy a warning…damn!"

"My apologies…but back to the point. I've searched everywhere and it's pretty clear that he doesn't want to be found. I haven't found one clue as to his whereabouts. I can't even figure out why he decided to do any of this….I mean, he's been hiding out for so long without so much as a whisper and now he's suddenly hunted you two down just to disrupt your lives?" Cas shouted, his voice cracking a bit in frustration. "I just don't understand…" he trailed off, raking a hand through his dark hair.

"I think he just gets off on screwing with us Cas. I think that _is_ his reason," sighed Dean as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. A hushed chuckle slipped from Castiel's mouth as his face twisted into a grin before quickly dissipating, his usual seriousness returning. "So, what are our options if we can't find the feathery fuck?" asked Dean.

"Well, from what I've found out, the only way to lift the curse is by reading an incantation and drinking a special mixture…but one of the ingredients is a drop of blood from the one who cursed you," sighed the angel.

"So, either we find Gabriel or Dean is stuck like this forever?" Sam huffed, already knowing the answer. Dean's lip curled up and quivered, his eyes turned red and welled up with tears and he turned his face to hide it. Sam didn't notice, his focus switching between the road and the rearview mirror as he waited to for the inevitable answer to his almost rhetorical question.

"Yes," the angel finally sputtered. With that one word Dean broke and the tears flowed freely. He curled into himself and openly sobbed against the passenger side door, breaking down for the second time in front of Castiel. Sam quickly pulled over, throwing the car into park and scrambling over the seat to his brother to comfort him.

"Don't worry Dean, we'll find him and get you back to normal. I promise," Sam soothed, shushing the small boy and rocking him in his arms. Castiel leaned over the front seat and reached a gentle hand towards Dean's head, hesitating momentarily before finally carding willowy fingers through the boy's soft locks. He nearly jumped out of his skin, azure eyes growing wide with shock when he felt the small boy lean into his touch and accept the comfort the angelic hands brought. Dean calmed, the tears and sniffles came to an end and he hurriedly pulled away from their grasps, straightening up and taking his place in the passenger seat…too ashamed to look anyone in the face as he wiped his tears on his sleeve.

"I have a feeling that he's somewhere close," stated the angel after clearing his throat. "We'll find him…it'll just take a little more time. I want to stick with you until we find him. You've seen through his ruse before Sam…during the Tuesday incident and with three of us keeping an eye out he'll have a harder time hiding." Sam nodded and pulled out onto the highway and Dean gave a grunt of approval, staring coldly out the window at the blur of green and brown that passed.

* * *

><p>"So, you boys still ain't got a clue?" sighed Bobby. "Balls!" he scoffed as he took off his ratty old hat and scratched his head. "Let me ask you something Cas…what exactly is gonna happen to Dean if we don't fix this mess soon? I mean, he's already been this way for a good six weeks and I don't know of many curses that don't end bad eventually." Bobby flipped the switch on the coffee pot and turned around, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter top.<p>

"Physically….nothing," answered Cas, lips pursed tightly.

"But?" pried Bobby.

"But? There is no but. He'll be like this until we find Gabriel and fix him. Nothing will change," the angel explained. "I don't think my brother was out to hurt anybody when he did this...it was purely for his amusement. I'm almost certain."

"Angel's are dicks!" squeaked Dean from his seat. Castiel grinned at the remark before taking a seat at the rickety table.

"So what's the plan?" asked Sam. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Cas before filling another for himself.

"Do you have any sugar?" the angel asked. Sam reached for the sugar dish and grabbed a spoon from a drawer before placing both on the table in front of Castiel. "Thank you. I don't really have much of a plan. I thought we would just stay together and keep our eyes out for anything that seems out of the ordinary." He spoke without looking up, spooning sugar into the steaming cup.

"Maybe he'll get bored…make himself known," suggested Bobby with a shrug.

"That could take a while," chimed Sam. "Do you know how many Tuesdays I went through before he got tired of his little 'game'?"

"I don't have that kind of time!" shrieked Dean, his tiny fist slamming down on the table top with a thump. The coffee didn't even spill. "It's horrible being like this. I can't have sex…I can't drink more than a beer without 'Mommy' over there getting on my case…" he motioned to Sam and scowled. "I can't even fire my sawed off without taking a fucking beating! And, I haven't had alone time with my baby in weeks…haven't so much as turned the key!" He was ranting, his arms and hands flying this way and that to emphasize any and all points he needed to make. "Do you know how humiliating this shit is? Women pinch my fucking cheeks…and I'm talking about the ones on my face!" Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at that one, doubling over with laughter and slapping his knee. "It's not funny!" Dean screamed, the vein in his neck bulging out from the rage, hands balling up into fists.

"I'm sorry, boy…but you should see yourself," Bobby choked out, still unable to get his laughter in check. Dean saw red. Between the frustration, disappointment, sadness, helplessness, anger, worry, embarrassment and any other shitty emotion on the spectrum that he had been through in the last few weeks, he lost it. His rant quickly turned into another violent outburst as he jutted out of his seat, knocking the chair over with a loud crack as he lunged towards Bobby. Before anyone in the room could blink he was in front of the old man swinging and kicking. He damn near got Bobby in the jewels before the hunter brought a knee up defensively. He grabbed the boy by both wrists and lifted him off the ground, his feet steadily kicking, head thrashing back and forth while he shrieked and spouted obscenities. "Boy, you better knock that shit off right now before I get a good crack at ya'!" Bobby warned with a stern glare. His mouth and legs didn't stop and he got a good, hard kick in to the old man's stomach.

"I've got this Bobby," hissed Sam as he grabbed Dean and threw him over his massive shoulder like a rag-doll, still kicking.

"Done this before has he?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah, but not quite this bad," shouted Sam over the wails. "I know what'll make him stop but I hate to do it…" The old man's eyes grew wide and he crossed his arms over his chest again as he watched Sam walk off to the living room with the boy.


End file.
